


carrot cake

by orphan_account



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Stress Baking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 05:57:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9870407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Ignis stress-bakes. Noct maybe definitely possibly doesn't feeltoobad about exploiting it for his own personal gain. Mostly.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [explodingnebulae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/explodingnebulae/gifts).



> ~~damn dallie back at it again with a new otp~~ idk guys i just suddenly had a great need for ignis stress-baking. because he would.
> 
> anyways. new fandom, new otp. lemme know what u think.
>
>> written for the [fandom writing challenge](http://fandomwritingchallenge.tumblr.com) february 2017 'food and drink' prompt "cake" 

Ignis is stress-baking. 

Noct inhales deeply as he steps into the apartment, mouth curling up at the sweet smells permeating the air. He kicks his shoes off by the door and immediately heads for the kitchen, dropping his keys on the table and his bag on the floor before padding over to the counter. 

“Smells good,” he says, and Ignis, using his hands to sift ingredients together in a bowl, hums in acknowledgement. “What is it?” 

“You’ll have to wait and see,” Ignis says, voice clipped, sifting the mixture in the bowl with a little more force than Noct thinks is necessary. He sniffs, turning away, and Noct leaves him to it, leaning against the counter to just watch. 

He’s got a smear of flour on his cheek, probably from absently re-adjusting his glasses as he worked, and Noct represses the urge to stand on his tiptoes and lick it off. The last time he’d interrupted the stress-baking, Ignis had forced him to watch everyone else eat and enjoy the most perfect cinnamon apple-cherry pie with the butteriest, flakiest crust without saving some for him. 

(Noct had cleaned the entire apartment himself and aced his next three tests out of spite. Ignis had rewarded him with his favorite berry tarts and didn’t complain about Noct’s habit of leaving his dirty socks on the living room floor for three whole days.)

Plus, flour doesn’t taste that good by itself anyway.

After watching Ignis add the mixture from the bowl into another bowl still under the mixer, Noct goes to grab his bag and pull out his homework. Whatever’s in the oven already is probably about done, so Noct bides his time by suffering through the designated stories from  _ The Canterbury Tales _ his Lit class is reading, with a brief reprieve in the form of arguments for his Critical Thinking class. He sneaks brief glances up at Ignis periodically, watching him separate the batter into pans and set them aside before turning to make more of it. 

He’s frowning down at an argument when a plate slides into view a while later, and Noct blinks as Ignis sets a fork by his hand. He looks up, the corner of his mouth pulling up. 

“Dessert before dinner?” he asks, but he picks up the fork anyway. 

Ignis makes a noncommittal noise in his throat, turning to put the next set of pans in the oven. There’s more flour in his hair, which is mussed and drooping from its usual combed-up spikes. 

“With your appetite, I figure you can handle a slice of cake before a meal,” Ignis finally says. He’s not wrong; when it comes to food, Noct puts it away like he’s starving. 

Noct looks at the cake, taking in the dark crumble of the interior and the cream cheese icing on the edges. He takes the fork, stabbing a corner and pulling it off. He squints at it, considering it, before putting it in his mouth. It’s sweet, like cake usually is, but not in a sugary cake way-- more like the natural sweetness of fruit. He hums, taking another bite. 

“What is it?” he asks, shoveling half the piece into his mouth because Ignis looks like he has at least two more on the counter, and Noct is already thinking about his next piece. 

The pause as Ignis turns to look at him, a smirk playing on his lips like he knows something Noct doesn’t, makes a funny feeling creep into Noct’s chest. The knowing glint in Ignis’s eyes doesn’t go unnoticed. 

“Carrot cake,” Ignis says pleasantly, moving to let Noct see the freshly-grated vegetables on the counter. 

A beat passes. Noct looks back at his nearly-finished slice, fork hovering near his mouth with another bite. He looks back at Ignis. 

“How could you.” 

Betrayal sets in like a sharp stab to the heart, and Noct desperately wants to shove the plate away, throw the fork across the room, but he’s got better manners than that, unfortunately, taught to him by the same man standing casually by the stove. 

Ignis looks entirely too pleased with himself as he begins to clean up the mess he’s left on the counter. 

“You like it, don’t you?” he points out, and Noct wants to deny it, but the fork in his mouth means he just grunts instead, turning away to glare down at the offending slice of  _ carrot cake  _ on his plate. Ignis snorts. “It’s not like they’re going to kill you to eat them. Can you even taste them?” 

Noct cannot, in fact, taste them, because they’re finely grated and mixed with sugar and made into a cake, but it’s the principle of the thing. 

“You know how I feel about carrots, you asshole,” he mumbles, but he finishes the slice of cake anyway, with more vehemence than he normally eats with. “They’re disgusting.” 

“So is the pile of takeaway garbage I found by the couch, and the mountain of dishes in the sink, and the frankly terrifying colony of dirty underwear in your room that I could smell from out here,” Ignis says, and he actually does look slightly nauseated. 

Noct feels his face heat up, and he looks away in embarrassment and just a little bit of guilt. Ignis really does work hard, staying up late to finish his own homework, cooking all their meals, doing all the chores, taking care of Noct like he has since forever, and Noct is probably the most ungrateful bastard on the planet because he purposefully leaves his dirty laundry and old food all over the place and doesn’t do the dishes hardly ever, all because he knows when Ignis is stressed, he bakes, and Noct  _ loves  _ Ignis’s baking. 

A hand in his hair makes him look up, and Ignis smiles tenderly, leaning over to press a kiss to his forehead. 

“You know I don’t mind,” he says softly, and Noct huffs out a breath. 

“I could still do my own laundry,” Noct says, absently flicking at his fork. Ignis chuckles. 

“Yes, you could,” he agrees, taking Noct’s plate and putting it in the sink. “But if you started taking responsibility, I wouldn’t have a reason to bake you things, would I?” 

Noct hums in agreement before the words actually register, and he glares up at Ignis’s back as Ignis cheerfully ignores him and begins getting things out for dinner. 

“You’re an asshole, Iggy.” 

Ignis just looks over his shoulder and winks.

**Author's Note:**

> [come talk to me about my babies on tumblr c:](http://niikiforovkatsuki.tumblr.com)


End file.
